Small Things
by Hidden Guardian
Summary: Series of one-shots revolving around Rook and Thom, and how it's the small things, the once-in-a-blue-moon moments between them, that mean the most in the end.
1. Small Things

Disclaimer: I don't own the Havemercy series or any of the characters in it.

I'm only half-way through Dragon Soul (school is a time-leech, sucking out all of the time I _could_ be using to read) so give me some leeway on what happens at the end of it.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

SMALL THINGS

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

"Oi, cindy."

Thom sighed heavily. _Rook_.

He wondered if he had made a mistake, latching himself onto someone who seemed to move along a sliding scale of disdainfully ignoring him to outright hating him. Was it enough to justify his desire to be with Rook just because they were brothers?

Rook mocked his appetite, looked down on his note-taking, thought he was… a 'cindy.'

Thom loved his brother – Rook was all he had – but sometimes he wondered if he was crazy to do so.

"Hey, quit starin' out the window; I'm talking to you!"

Thom almost wished he wasn't. The backwoods inn was just as rundown and ramshackle as every other place they had stayed but the view out the window – overlooking a lake with sparkling water – was beautiful. He wanted to keep staring, enjoying the piece and letting his mind wander.

Rook would gut him if he didn't surrender his attention.

"Yes, Rook?" he asked, turning around.

His brother – always so large – took up more space than just what his body occupied. His personality, dominating and rough, was a real presence around him like a bubble made of spikes.

But something was different. Rook's tough-guy stance was missing; his head was down, hands clasped behind his back.

Thom immediately thought the worst. "Oh, John, what did you do?"

"What? I didn't do nothing!" Rook snapped.

Thom blushed and rushed to soothe ruffled feathers. "Alright, I'm sorry. I just assumed-."

"Well don't!"

He flinched. Could Rook blame him for assuming? "I'm sorry," he repeated. "What is it, Rook?"

Rook looked cowed, humbled again. What _was_ going on? "Was out. You know… picked up a whore."

Thom closed his eyes. Listening to this was **not** his idea of brotherly bonding.

"Some guy left a bag at the whorehouse and all the girls were digging through it, right? And he didn't have anything good, but still there was something… I thought you'd like it, so I paid the whores for it."

"Oh, Rook." Thom wasn't sure if he was moved or not. That Rook had seen something he thought Thom would like and paid attention to it, not dismissed it, paid for it and brought it to him… still, he had essentially helped whores rob a man. "What did you bring me?"

Rook moved his hands and shoved his reward at Thom.

A book. Thick and leather-bound, brand new from the crisp edges and fresh smell. Thom took it reverently and opened the cover. Fairytales, old Volstovic ones, the kind neither he nor Rook had been read as children.

"It's in perfect condition," Thom said, "Thank you so much, Rook."

Why had Rook not blown it off like every other book he had ever laid eyes on? Did he know that it was full of stories their mother should have told them?

Rook nodded and sat down on the large bed; the room only had one and Thom was fully expecting to sleep on the floor like a dog. He looked awkward – unlike himself it all – and finally gave a massive sigh and a shrug. "If you're bored or something, you can read it to me, I guess. I looked at some of the pictures and all…."

Thom smiled, still slightly confused, and flipped to the first page, settling against the window-frame to get comfortable. "Okay, brother."


	2. Blue

Disclaimer: I don't own Havemercy or any of the characters therein.

Geez! I know I normally tend to fall all over myself for a 'background' couple (and my mind considers Rook and Thom background to Royston and Hal), but these two are quickly turning into a new obsession.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

BLUE

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

When he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in a storefront window, Rook realized that the blue streaks in his hair were fading.

"Well, fuck."

Colored hair like his was odd and rare, even in fashion capitols, and in Eklesaris – beautiful, but rigid and traditional – he imagined that all of his hair would be gray before he found someone to put the streaks back in.

It kind of pissed him off. The blue streaks were his trademark among the men of the Corps, showing how daring and independent he was. They made him look untamable.

Even Have had liked them – she mocked them and insulted Rook's intelligence for getting them and this, he knew, was how she showed love.

But no one had asked why he had gotten them in the first place (odd, with how nosy Thom was).

The streaks themselves were actually Thom's fault, though the 'Versity boy didn't know it.

In the upper-echelon of hoity-toity ladies of the court, whenever a family member such as a father or a son died they pulled their hair back and pulled on black veils. Rook wasn't one for grand displays of emotion (or taking his social cues from rich old biddies). But he had just lost Hilary, the only person he had, the only person he cared about, and Rook was no stranger to loss, but losing Hilary….

He _needed_ to mourn or he would go nuts, holding all of his grief and guilt in. So he had started pulling his hair back in braids and found a guy in Miranda – a limp-wristed cindy, foppish and fashionable – to dye black streaks into his hair.

Unfortunately, the liquid dye was dark, navy and black almost identical in the pots.

Rook had been pissed, less vicious than he was now but every bit as volatile, and the dandy had tried to remove the streaks but had only lightened them to a regular blue.

And the blue had stayed, refusing to wash out. Rook didn't like it but there was nothing he could do, so he embraced the blue, making it a trademark. As far as he was concerned, the significance was still there even if the act itself had gone to hell.

But maybe it was okay if the streaks were fading now. He was no longer mourning because his brother was alive, different but with him all the same. And Thom was a pretty okay brother.

Later that night, Thom nervously pointed out the fading color in his golden hair.

Rook just grinned and said, "Yep."


End file.
